


You're a Pain in The Neck, Angel

by bloodpopsicles



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Cass is head over heels, I'm going down with this doomed ship, got it bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:07:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodpopsicles/pseuds/bloodpopsicles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events from episode 4 Monster Swamp involving Tulip, Cassidy, and a funeral baton from Cass's perspective. A short little one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're a Pain in The Neck, Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This is unrelated to my other fics, but I really wanted to explore Tulip/Cass! I loved how they met and I wanted more of the emotions attached to it from Cass's viewpoint.

She was so... Tiny. 5'3, maybe, if he was being generous. But even with the height difference, Cassidy thought better than to fuck with the little lass if he knew what was good for him. But, of course, he never did. 

Never had an infatuation began so violently. There he was, blitzed out of his mind on some combination of angel dust, percoset, a few bumps of coke cut with powdered Comet, and some children's NyQuil mixed with a bit o' anti-freeze. It was dark save for the red haze of neon blinking through the whorehouse window, and he couldn't remember what Ginger looked like underneath him. Or was it Brandy. No, Ginger. Probably. Whoever she was she had great tits.

And then next thing he knew someone was beating the living shite out of him with--was that a bleedin' baton? He protested but she just kept laying blows down like a prize fighter, and even as he went through the window, arse out and bleeding, Cassidy was intrigued more than anything. Who was trying to kill him this time?

(Not that he didn't deserve it for something or other, he would freely admit. In the past century assassins had become less of a surprise for Cass and more of a nuisance.)

But as she cradled his head in her lap, his lanky body crammed into the back seat and bleeding a river onto the upholstery, he knew she was different. For Chrissakes, she started prayin'. Cass had to stifle a laugh as she asked the almighty to save his sorry arse, but he played it off as tracheal collapse. Looking up at her, her face splattered with his blood, guilty tears in her eyes, and the golden streetlights illuminating her short curls like a makeshift halo, Cassidy felt a pang rip through his chest. And not like the kind throbbing through his jugular neither. She just might manage to save him yet.

He didn't know why he did it. 'Twasn't to take advantage, though Cass knew that's how it would look when she realized. She really did think he was gonna ascend to heaven right there in her arms, and for once Cass decided to believe it too. Maybe he liked the idea of dying in the arms of a beautiful woman, going 120 down a backroad somewhere in Bumfuck, Texas. It was almost Shakespearean, or as close to poetic as Cass would ever get. So he said fuck it and decided to go out like a champ. 'Sides, he'd regret it if he didn't. 

"Kiss me," he begged breathlessly, eyes wide.

"What?!" 

"Kiss me!" He repeated, still half-believing she'd call his bluff. 

And she kissed him. With her lips against his, tasting the metallic tinge of his own blood, Cassidy guessed she must really be an angel.


End file.
